


Confession

by sinfuldesire_archivist



Category: Supernatural
Genre: During Canon, First Time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-12-25
Updated: 2006-12-25
Packaged: 2018-09-03 08:25:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8704960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinfuldesire_archivist/pseuds/sinfuldesire_archivist
Summary: Dean takes Sam's confession to heart.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the Sinful Desire archivists: this story was originally archived at [Sinful-Desire.org](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Sinful_Desire). To preserve the archive, we began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in November 2016. We e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [Sinful Desire collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/sinfuldesire/profile).

CONFESSION

By Shorts

 

“I hate this time of year,” said Dean, driving past another motel with a no vacancy sign. Without reservations it would be damn near impossible to get a room for the night. Their lives were too unpredictable to know exactly where they would be when the holidays hit to even consider attempting to reserve a room.

 

Sam quietly let out a sigh, resigned to the possibility of spending the night in the car. Not that they hadn’t done so many times in the past, but it wasn’t high on his list of things to do.

 

“Why don’t you climb into the back and try and get comfortable?” suggested Dean. “I’ll drive until I find a motel or a rest stop, whichever comes first.”

 

“You sure?” asked Sam, feeling a twinge of guilt. “I could drive for awhile.”

 

“I’m sure,” said Dean. “I’m good for a few more hours.”

 

“Wake me if you need me,” said Sam. He carefully climbed over the seat, mindful not to accidentally kick Dean with his long legs. Curling on his side, he used one of Dean’s jackets as a pillow and closed his eyes. The steady hum of the tires lulled him and he quickly started to doze with the smooth swaying of the car, despite the moonlight shining through the side window.

 

Dean reached up and angled the rearview mirror until he could see Sam’s face. In the pale light, Sam looked young, bringing back memories. When they were younger, John always made sure they had some sort of holiday. It wasn’t traditional in any sense of the word, but there had always been a sense of family none the less. John made sure of that, whether it was with Father Jim, Daniel Elkins, hell even Bobby Singer. Sometimes it would be just the three of them, and those were some of the best holidays he could remember. All that came to an end when Sam had left for Stanford. The feeling of family had been torn away, leaving nothing but an emptiness that the holidays that followed could never fill.

 

Forcing himself to concentrate on the dark ribbon of highway before him, Dean drove toward the next town, hoping to find some place to stop.

 

*******

 

Sam frowned as he was shaken again, more roughly than before. “What?”

 

“C’mon,” said Dean. “I found us a room.”

 

Sam sat up and rubbed his eyes, squinting at the surroundings. The bright neon light flashed garishly, turning the plastic Santa in the office window of the motel a sickly orange. “Where are we?”

 

“Somewhere between the North Pole and Vegas,” answered Dean. Shouldering their duffel bag, he waited as Sam stumbled out of the car.

 

Pushing open the motel room door, Dean dropped the bag onto the floor and headed for the bathroom to check nothing was lurking in there.

 

Sam closed the door as he took in the accommodations. A single bed was nestled against one wall, a small television stood on the dresser opposite the bed, and a table with one chair was stuck in the corner. He took his turn in the bathroom and came out as Dean finished laying the protective salt line around the room.

 

“They didn’t have anything else,” said Dean, shrugging off his jacket and moving past Sam to sit down on the chair to unlace his boots. “Go ahead and take the bed, I’ll crash out on the floor.”

 

“That’s not going to work,” said Sam, shaking his head.

 

“Sure it will,” said Dean. “It beats the hell out of being cramped up in the car. The backseat might be comfortable enough, but in the front there’s the steering wheel to contend with.”

 

“I mean,” said Sam, sitting on the edge of the bed. “There’s no reason for you to sleep on the floor. You have no idea what might be crawling down there when the lights are out, besides you’ve been driving.”

 

“Consider it a Christmas present from me to you,” said Dean, snagging one of the pillows and tossing it on the floor.

 

“This is ridiculous,” said Sam, bending over and picking up the pillow and placing it back on the bed. “It might be a little tight, but we can share the bed.”

 

Dean reached up and grabbed the pillow. “I’m perfectly fine with you taking the bed.”

 

“It’s not like we haven’t shared before,” said Sam, stopping Dean from once again putting the pillow on the floor.

 

“Will you let go?” asked Dean, trying to pull the pillow free of Sam’s grasp.

 

“No.” Sam tightened his hold on the pillow and ducked forward, trying to see Dean’s face.

 

“Look, I just wanted you to not have to spend Christmas in the car, okay? Why are you making this so difficult?” demanded Dean, yanking hard and winning the battered pillow.

 

“I’m not, you are,” answered Sam. “Will you just get your ass up here?”

 

Seeing the stubborn set of Sam’s jaw, Dean knew neither of them would be getting any sleep until Sam got his way. “Fine, but don’t steal all the covers.” Dean rose from the floor and settled on his side, as close to the edge of the mattress as possible.

 

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” said Sam, pulling off his shirt and slipping out of his jeans.

 

“Now what?” asked Dean, looking over his shoulder.

 

“You can’t seriously intend to sleep like that,” said Sam.

 

“Like what?” asked Dean, exasperated.

 

“Fully clothed?” pointed out Sam. “The jeans have got to go. Otherwise you might as well be crashing in the car.”

 

Glaring back at Sam, Dean finally rolled his eyes before rising to undress. “Happy now?”

 

Sam shook his head and climbed into bed, slipping beneath the covers and rolling onto his side to face Dean. “What’s going on Dean?”

 

“Other than you being a pain in the ass?” asked Dean, once again lying on his side, facing away from Sam.

 

“I mean, you act like you’re uncomfortable sharing a bed with me,” said Sam, tucking his arm beneath his pillow.

 

Dean sighed. “Just go to sleep, Sam.”

 

“Well, we aren’t as small as we used to be,” mused Sam. “And if memory serves me, it was you that stole all the covers.”

 

“Forget it, Sam,” said Dean, turning out the bedside lamp and crushing his pillow into a ball beneath his head. This was nothing like when they were kids. He had never been as aware of Sam’s presence as he was now. Ever since Sam had once again joined him in hunting, he had sensed a change in the dynamics of their relationship that he couldn’t quite put his finger on. Whether it stemmed from him or Sam, he couldn’t say, but either way it wasn’t something that he was willing to pursue at the risk of being wrong and running Sam off. Forcing himself to ignore the close confines of the bed, the long hours on the road finally caught up with him and he succumbed to sleep.

 

Having slept in the car, Sam stared up at the ceiling, turning over the puzzle of Dean’s behavior. The thought that Dean might have figured out Sam’s secret had him sitting up in bed. It would explain Dean’s reluctance to sleep with him. “Shit.”

 

“Sam?” mumbled Dean, rolling onto his back and automatically reaching out toward him. “What’s wrong?”

 

Uncertain what to do, Sam stared at Dean’s questing hand reaching for him.

 

“Sam?” repeated Dean, opening his eyes and blinking as he focused on his brother sitting upright beside him. “What is it?” He pushed himself onto his elbows and looked around the room for an explanation.

 

“You know, don’t you?” asked Sam, staring wide eyed at Dean.

 

“If I knew, I wouldn’t be asking,” grumbled Dean, rubbing his face with his hand in an attempt to clear away the cobwebs of sleep. “Either tell me what the hell is wrong, or go to sleep.”

 

“You trust me, don’t you?” asked Sam, all his hopes and fears resting on that one question.

 

“What?” frowned Dean, trying to figure out what he missed while he had been sleeping. “What kind of question is that?”

 

“One I really need to know the answer to,” replied Sam, staring intently at Dean.

 

Dean sat up and studied Sam. “Yeah. I do. Now why are you acting more of a freak than normal?”

 

“I thought maybe,” started Sam, swallowing. “You were acting all weird about sharing the bed . . . I thought you . . . it isn’t something you have to worry about . . . “

 

“Sam,” interrupted Dean. “Make sense or shut up.” 

 

“You know, don’t you?” asked Sam once again.

 

“Be a little more specific there, bro,” sighed Dean, running his hand over his short hair and rubbing the back of his neck.

 

“That I, uh, have these feelings,” stammered Sam.

 

“Yeah?” squinted Dean as he looked hard at Sam. “Nothing wrong with feelings, unless they’re accompanied by voices that tell you to do things you shouldn’t. You don’t have this urge to try and kill me in my sleep, do you?”

 

“I’m serious, Dean,” said Sam.

 

“So am I,” countered Dean.

 

“Just forget it,” said Sam, flopping back down on the bed.

 

Dean looked down at Sam, seeing the lines of worry etched into his forehead. “Look, I don’t know exactly what it is, but yeah, I’ve sensed things are different between us. I just chalk it up to you being away those years.”

 

Sam continued to stare up at the ceiling, unable to look directly at Dean. “Maybe. But it’s more than that.”

 

Dean waited, knowing Sam would eventually spit it out, he always did.

 

“I left for school, but I knew you would always be there for me,” continued Sam. “No matter what, deep down I knew you were the one person I could always count on.”

 

“You’re my brother, of course I’ll always be there,” said Dean, stretching on his side, facing Sam.

 

“That’s the problem,” sighed Sam. “We’re brothers.”

 

“That’s a problem?” asked Dean, no less confused than when this conversation started.

 

“It is when it’s not brotherly feelings I’m having,” muttered Sam, the heat of a blush on his cheeks.

 

“Dude, I hate to break it to you, but I’m not Jess,” Dean cringed at the harshness of his words, wishing he could take them back.

 

“Trust me, I’ll never mistake you for her,” said Sam. His heart gave a small twinge at the mention of Jess, but no longer was there the pain that used to accompany thoughts of her. “You’re taller.”

 

“I’m also a guy,” pointed out Dean.

 

“That, too,” said Sam, a small smile gracing his lips. “Not that being a guy matters all that much.”

 

“Since when?” asked Dean, trying to grapple with the revelation that Sam had just confessed.

 

“You mean, since when have I been into guys?” asked Sam.

 

All Dean could do was nod.

 

“As long as I can remember,” shrugged Sam. “I enjoy women, too. Gender just isn’t an issue with me.”

 

“I . . . see,” said Dean.

 

“No, you don’t,” said Sam. “It has never been just about the sex, it’s also about trust and you’ve been the one person I could ever really trust.”

 

Dean started to speak, but nothing came out. He furrowed his brow as he deciphered between the lines of Samspeak.

 

Sam continued to stare at the ceiling, purposefully avoiding eye contact with Dean as he waited for his reaction.

 

In the silence that settled between them, Dean considered the implications of Sam’s confession. Common sense told him to put this whole issue to rest, to end it before it ever began, but this was Sam, and his instinct told him differently. Whatever Sam needed from him, he had always tried to give, never denying Sam if it was in his power to obtain it for him.

 

As the minutes passed Sam’s tension built, waiting for Dean to push him away. His view of the ceiling was suddenly blocked by Dean leaning over him. He jumped when Dean quickly lowered his head and kissed him, startling him with the unexpected sensation.

 

The sharp intake of breath by Sam had parted his lips, allowing Dean to slip his tongue inside and tentatively probe the wet heat of his mouth. Sensing Sam’s intention to pull away, he gripped Sam’s jaw with his hand, holding him still as he continued to explore into the kiss.

 

Caught between trying to break away and wanting to embrace his brother, Sam could only surrender to the sinful teasing of Dean’s tongue. He eagerly kissed back, hungry for Dean’s unique taste beneath the toothpaste. Lost in the kiss, he slipped his arms around Dean and held him tight.

 

Dean released his grip on Sam’s jaw, almost overwhelmed by the intensity of Sam kissing him back. He carded his fingers through the soft, silky strands of Sam’s hair, trying to soothe him.

 

Reluctantly, Sam broke the kiss, shaking at the turn of events. He was thankful for Dean’s weight pressing down on him, keeping him from shattering into a million pieces.

 

Dean placed a soft kiss on Sam’s temple before lifting up enough to look down at him.

 

“Why?” swallowed Sam, searching for answers as he stared up at Dean.

 

“We don’t live by any rules but our own,” answered Dean, firm in his conviction. “If this isn’t what you want, just say so and I’ll back off.”

 

“Dean, do you know what you’re doing?” asked Sam, trying to understand the meaning of what had just happened.

 

“Hey, I’ll have you know I’m a great kisser,” joked Dean.

 

“That’s not what I meant,” said Sam, needing a serious answer from Dean.

 

“The dynamics might be a little different, but yeah, I know what I’m doing,” said Dean, all joking aside.

 

Sam opened his mouth, but Dean cut him off.

 

“I don’t have all the answers, Sam,” said Dean. “But this feels right. All we can do is take it one step at a time, okay?”

 

“Okay.” nodded Sam, pushing Dean back until he was stretched out on the bed. Curling against his side, he rested his head on his shoulder and grinned at the thought of the coming new year with all the implications this new aspect of their relationship would bring.


End file.
